


Creation

by Akisame8



Series: Horizons [1]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 01:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11818767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akisame8/pseuds/Akisame8
Summary: Dayna attempts to use her creativity in a new, non-lethal way and she reluctantly calls on the assistance of Vila.This occurs between the events of "Rumours of Death" and "Sarcophagus" and is my take on where Dayna's harp came from.





	Creation

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a monthly fanfic challenge on Horizon based on [a wonderful artwork prompt by Atomicmayo](http://www.blakes7online.com/forum/viewthread.php?thread_id=1818) of Dayna at work in her cabin.  
> 

"NO GUNS ALLOWED."  
  
    At least, not until she had finished this new project — and she wanted to see this through without distractions of a more lethal kind. Time to make something brand new that, for once, would _not_ be a weapon. Yet this new creation felt much more dangerous to her than anything else she had ever built before.  
  
    Dayna had tacked the sign up for her own benefit. "I'm going to do this thing," she said to herself with determination. "Even if I'm the only person who will ever appreciate it."  
  
    First she needed supplies. Then coffee. Lots of coffee. She drew little designs on her tablet based on the research she had done with Orac. Zen had also sent some visual reference to her personal cabin computer, as well as useful instructions with which she could use to improvise on the basic template. She then picked a shape she thought was pleasing, made sketches, figured out how the electrical components might be added. After her diagrams were complete, she finally made a list of the things she didn't already have which she still needed in order to build her creation.  
  
    With great reluctance, she then sought out Vila. She reasoned that if anyone had a knack for procuring odd things, it was the little thief.  
  
    "Where can I get this stuff?" she asked, showing him her hand-written list.  
  
    Vila squinted at it. "Wires. Glue. Carving tools. Varnish. Wood. Wait, what?" He cocked his head. "A tuning fork? What kind of crazy weapon are you building this time, Dayna?"  
  
    "A sonic one," she muttered. "Why I need the tuning fork. So do you think you can help me find these, or don't you?"  
  
    Vila grinned. _"Quid pro quo?"_ When he saw her venomous look, he added, "Um, completely innocent _quid pro quo,_ that is?"  
  
    She sighed. "Just don't ask questions. This is just ... an experiment."  
  
***  
    Dayna was impressed. Vila delivered the goods promptly after an excursion to the surface of Epsilon Three (she didn't inquire too deeply on how he had accomplished this; better left a mystery) and in return, she had to take his shift on the _Liberator's_ deck for five nights in a row. She considered it worth it and would have been completely happy had he _then_ not gone snooping into her business.  
  
    She had just begun to sand the wooden frame when Vila knocked on her door. She opened it a crack, trying to hide the view of her worktable. "I thought I should tell you," he grinned, winking,"that I know what the parts for a harp look like."  
  
    She flushed in anger and embarrassment. "Vila, I told you I didn't want to talk about it! Now leave me alone." The mechanized door closed on his face with the velocity of a slam.  
  
    "Sorry! Artistic temperament, I get it!" he whined through the door.  
  
    "Yes, and this artist also makes her own explosives, so go AWAY!"  
  
    "Ah! Hint taken! I'll leave you to your work..."  
  
    Yet a week later, there came another knock on the door. She tried to ignore it as she continued to attach the wires to the instrument's pegs. "Daaaay-na," came Vila's plaintive voice. "Aw, Dayna, open up. I have a peace offering."  
  
    She growled and got up to open the door. Vila was standing there holding out a cuddly plush creature of some sort. "I got this for you because I thought it was cute. 'Dayna needs more cuteness in her life,' I said to myself. I have no idea what species it is." He began to make the toy dance. "'I'm waiting for Dayna to play me a song'," he warbled in the creature's supposed voice.  
  
    Dayna snatched it out of his hand and angrily hurled it across the room. It smacked against her ammunition locker. "I may be the youngest person on the _Liberator,_ Vila, but I'm not a child! Now get lost before I tell Avon you filched his wine."  
  
    "How did—" he croaked but she didn't let him finish and slammed the door on his face again. She ignored his muffled and desperate apologies from the corridor and sat there, rubbing her forehead, staring at her nearly complete work. Now she only needed to add the electronic elements before she could finally test it, and what was most important, play the song she had written.  
  
    Yes, she had written a _song._ She, Dana Mellanby.  
  
***  
    She was almost there. Coffee. More coffee.  
  
    Absently, her eyes strayed to the crumpled thing on the floor. The plush, unidentifiable creature was actually somewhat adorable. She picked it up off the floor and put it gently on her bed, thinking Lauren would have loved this ridiculous thing. As of late, she had been lost in reveries of her childhood as she had hummed to herself, varnishing the harp's wooden frame. She also found herself very sorry for having been unkind to Vila. He had exasperated her, but he had meant her no harm. If anything, he had actually been encouraging.  
  
    She sighed. "This isn't working," she said.  
  
    Her first musical instrument had not been very successful. Her father had found little data for her to use to construct her very first harp, so she had improvised and made it out of the husk of a detonator shell. She had crudely fixed strings to it and had presented it to her sister Lauren for inspection. It had made an odd plunking sound that was more comical than musical, but of course her adopted sister had loved it.  
  
    Her second try at constructing a harp was a vast improvement. She was holding it in her hands now and it was _magnificent,_ if she must say so herself. Now, could she make music from it that wouldn't make her cringe?  
  
    After weeks of solitude, the first sound her creation made was that of a melodic waterfall. A good sign. And she finally began to compose her song on it, surprised that she could still remember the fingering she had learned years ago. She would have to give herself more lessons to improve, of course, and practice in extreme secrecy — but she would finally have a private, tranquil world in which to turn, even if it existed only in this cramped little cabin aboard the sometimes chaotic _Liberator._  
  
    Was she embarrassed by her newest work? Well, if she turned out to be a terrible musician, none of the other crew members would ever know.  
  
***  
    The instrument's sound indeed had a sweet beauty and Dayna let her song fade into a gentle loneliness. Still, she was pleased. "I did it, Lauren," she whispered. "This actually... _worked."_  
  
    There came a knock on the door and the mood was abruptly ruined. "Oh, for crying out loud! The door is open. Come in," she sighed. She figured that Vila might as well finally see what he had helped her build.  
  
    But it wasn't Vila.  
  
    Avon walked in slowly. He looked past her at the harp on her worktable. "Where did you get that?" he asked. It was almost an accusation.  
  
    She overcame her startlement and replied casually: "I made it. Well, the parts might not have been obtained in a completely legal way—that was Vila's doing. But I put them together." She realized she was blushing. Had she been singing too loudly? She frowned, abashed, and began to adjust the keys. "I... I wanted to make something that would remind me of home, of my father and my sister. It doesn't look too bad I think. Only I don't have it sounding quite right yet. Still a bit clumsy, if you ask me."  
  
    "I thought it sounded exceptional," Avon said quietly. "Exquisite, in fact."  
  
    Dayna had to stop her mouth from falling open in astonishment at this rare and quite uncharacteristic praise from the dispassionate man.  
  
    Trying to hide her beaming face, she said in a matter-of-fact voice: "Thank you. No, it needs a bit more work to adjust the tones, but I think it's coming along nicely."  
  
    Avon had been in a strange mood for these past weeks after the "Bartholomew" incident and perhaps he had been wandering sleeplessly again in the corridors. "May I...?" He inquired, leaning against the door frame next to where her NO GUNS ALLOWED sign hung, his arms crossed over his chest. When she looked at him in perplexity, he finished his sentence.  
  
    "...Stay here and listen?"  
  
    "Uh... sure," she said, knowing suddenly what stage fright was like. "Again, it's rough and needs lots of—"  
  
    His face was grim, unreadable. "Don't ever apologize for your accomplishments. It demeans them."  
  
    "Right." This was weird and not like Avon at all; she was even more uncomfortable. But she straightened her shoulders with resolve and gave a quick sigh. Surely to him, it was also very uncharacteristic for her to be singing songs.  
  
    She began to play.  
  
    After a few minutes she had forgotten Avon was even there. Her fingers glided over the strings and the notes cascaded in accompaniment to her voice, sung in barely a whisper at first, then with more confidence and fluidity.  
  
    When she finally looked up again with a finishing sigh, she saw that Avon was no longer in the room, probably having slipped silently away halfway through her song. Rather than being dismayed that he had done so, she was now convinced she was much better than she had actually thought. If she could touch even Avon's brittle heart, she must have some ability after all. And she smiled, satisfied.  
  
    It was then that a tentative Vila poked his head in. "Er, I saw the the door was open. You're not going to throw a pocket grenade at me for interrupting—?"  
  
    This new smile was genuine as well. "No, Vila, come in."  
  
    The small thief was grinning wickedly from ear-to-ear as he entered. "Just passed Avon. I think the corridor must need to be swept again. All that dust does have a tendency to get in the eyes..."  
  
    "Vila, your little creature seems to approve of my singing." She indicated where it sat propped on her bed, a tiny audience. "Thank you for your help. Sincerely." She put her harp down and went to hand the creature to him. "Do you think someone else needs its artistic encouragement this time?"  
  
    "Not Avon. It'll come back to me eviscerated." He beamed then. "Well, can you play for ALL of us now? I know Cally will definitely love it!"  
  
    It would be the first time the harp ever left the sanctuary of her room.

**Author's Note:**

> Dayna's harp was only ever seen in the episode "Sarcophagus." Where had it come from? That was the basis of this story as well as Atomicmayo's artwork prompt. (Thank you again, Atomicmayo, for the inspiration!) Tanith Lee, who wrote "Sarcophagus," is one of my favorite authors and she gave new depths to the characters with that episode. It was sad that we never saw Dayna's harp again after that.
> 
> Horizon's monthly ficlet challenges are supposed to be no more than 500 words, but I gleefully got carried away with this particular one, as you can see. I've since written (some) shorter stories for them which I hope to collect here. (I post on Horizon as "Rainesz.")


End file.
